


Love, Sex and Whatever Comes Next

by Cybil_Hargrove



Category: Original Work
Genre: Asexuality, Character Study, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24364960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cybil_Hargrove/pseuds/Cybil_Hargrove
Summary: "Love makes us pathetic. Sex is a jungle of epileptics."- Arnaldo JaborEverything is a journey. From the day we are born through everything we go through until we realize who we really are. We all have our personal journeys. It turns out that Charlie Grigsby's journeys are... a bit more complex than some of the people around her. But that's just how it goes when you have terrible communication skills.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Love, Sex and Whatever Comes Next

_"Human sexuality is the way people experience and express themselves sexually. This involves biological, erotic, physical, emotional, social, or spiritual feelings and behaviors. Because it is a broad term, which has varied over time, it lacks a precise definition. The biological and physical aspects of sexuality largely concern the human reproductive functions, including the human sexual response cycle. Someone's sexual orientation is their pattern of sexual interest in the opposite or same sex. Physical and emotional aspects of sexuality include bonds between individuals that are expressed through profound feelings or physical manifestations of love, trust, and care. Social aspects deal with the effects of human society on one's sexuality, while spirituality concerns an individual's spiritual connection with others. Sexuality also affects and is affected by cultural, political, legal, moral, ethical, and religious aspects of life”._

_\- as found on Wikipedia_

Look, I know. This was an unnecessarily huge amount of a bullshit read. You probably didn’t even read the whole thing and I don’t blame you. But I had to include it. I have reread this paragraph – and honestly the whole damn page – way more than any other regular human being must have done in their whole entire lives. You aren’t losing much, it’s a very poorly created article and I don’t think anyone is missing some masterpiece for not reading _“Wikipedia's Human Sexuality for Dummies”_ but here’s the thing, as much as I read it and read it again, it will never make much sense to me.

Internet says that if you really love someone, if you trust and care about them, eventually all these feelings will overflow and become this really powerful boiling pot of desire that will make you gladly fuck your partner into a more complete and complex relationship. And then you get married, buy a house in the suburbs and make babies or whatever. I never thought those rules would apply to me that much. 

It's a bit complicated. A bit too complicated. 

At 15 years old – after kissing Dean Brannon under the bleachers for the very first time and realizing boys were most likely not my thing – I came to the simple and very sudden conclusion that I was in fact a lesbian. It was 2009 and we already had some relevant people who were out, proud and with successful careers. Eminem and Elton John were buddies so jocks had to pretend to be on the same level as their rapper hero. Lindsay Lohan was dating a woman and The L Word was popular with white housewives and their offspring enough for having lesbian friends to become cool and trendy rather than “gross”. I never had to worry about actually hateful homophobic remarks in high school - those usually were saved for the flamboyant gay boys. I never tried to intrude on that, as horrible as it may sound, I was just trying to survive that mess without any emotional scars, which I barely managed. 

I – Charlotte Grigsby or just Charlie, as most people call me – hi, nice to meet you! – was a pro at pretending to be whatever people needed me to be. It wasn't that hard, to be frankly honest. Maybe just a bit depressing.

At the end of the day I had a few good friends and I was invited to parties and some could even say I was slightly popular. Very slightly. The token lesbian on Gail Hurst’ girl squad. As long as I wasn't too butch and as long as I wasn't too brash. As a kid, it wasn't that bad to have conditions to be friends. Gail wasn't prejudiced as much as she was ignorant. As a bunch others of 00's teenagers also were. 

Also, thanks to Gail, I met my very first girlfriend: Sadie.

And that’s when things got a bit more difficult, you see.

I had kissed girls before kissing Sadie. Some straight girls would even purposely make their bottles land on me during The Bottle Game so they would have a safe enough excuse to kiss another girl and brush it off as a _“gal pal”_ situation. So I never had any doubts about being into girls. But Sadie was my first real deal with feelings involved.

She was nothing like Gail, the popular cheerleader with a following and a too big head for her narrow shoulders. But still, Sadie was on the popular side just as much as I was. She was the right hand woman of Celine Martin, the Student Union’s President and Gail's best friend and cousin. She was nice-looking and well-spoken and crazy smart. There were a shitload of people trying to get a shot at her - boys and girls - but for some weird reason she chose me. Even Gail gave us her blessing. 

I never considered saying no.

We’ve stayed together for around nine months before everything finally crumbled down like a miscalculated house of cards.

Our first three months together were peachy. We’d go to parties and we’d kiss and we’d drink and then we’d make out a little. We’d go on bowling dates, on picnics, we’d even have study dates and she was so perfect it was almost like a waking dream. 

I never regretted Sadie. Not even once. Not even when things started to go wrong. But then four months kicked in and like any other teenager, Sadie started to subtly request for _more_. She’d pull me completely over her during our make out sessions, she’d pull my hand over her chest and she would carefully grind against my thigh when things would become too heated. She wasn't a virgin. I was. It took me a few weeks to realize that those repeated silent movements were actually just obvious requests. Sadie wanted to go to the next level. Sex. The logical next step. How silly of me!

I threw up twice after that realization. As if a bomb had been planted on my stomach and would blow up at any second.

Still, I ignored my own personal alarms and went with it. I was about to turn 17 and everyone I knew was either already having sex, very close to have sex or practically crawling walls bare handed for the chance of having sex. I had a beautiful girl about to rip her own clothes off for me and I was wasting time being an anxious cucumber. 

So one night, after Sadie's parents had left for a romantic night out on Broadway Avenue, I stopped at her place and we did it.

Just like that. Twenty minutes of kissing and trying to remove clothing articles without coming off as an idiot. Ten minutes of awkward fondling. Another ten minutes of more kissing and when Sadie tried to touch me down there I got so cold and so still I might as well have become a piece of granite. I remember her being concerned for a moment. It was embarrassing. 

— Charlie… you wanna do it first?” she asked, being as nice and patient as any horny teenage girl could possibly be.

I nodded. Even though I wasn’t particularly fond of neither of those ideas. I put to use everything I remembered reading on the internet plus some very uncomfortable minutes I had spent on YouPorn a few days prior in preparation. I’m pretty sure that as of today I’m as far as possible of being one of Sadie’s best sexual partners. Not that I was tremendously horrible at it, but I wasn’t that great either. It took her around 20 minutes to come, after a few comments on my methods, a few moving my hands to the right spots and a few more me trying to finish that whole thing without having a full blown panic attack and jumping right out through the window. 

She was pretty tired when we finished but still she offered my turn. I barely managed to escape that one and told her to go to sleep. There would always be a next time. I couldn’t explain to myself why the concept of a next time was so terrifying to me.

I liked girls, right? Sadie was a girl. Sadie was a very pretty girl. And I liked her. So it was only natural that we eventually had sex. I couldn’t understand why that whole experience had left me way more distressed than satisfied.

Thankfully, or maybe not so, the next time only arrived a month later.

We were teenagers and our parents and siblings were always at home. It was kinda obvious that we wouldn’t be able to have sex all the time. And I was frustratingly thankful for that. I knew Sadie wanted to do it again. She had told me as much. But I couldn’t share her excitement. If anything, I'd be the one always cheating on the chances she'd sneakily present to us. 

I enjoyed that month of hiatus as much as I could. I enjoyed our outings and our ice cream dates and our walks at the park holding hands and feeding the squirrels. I enjoyed our cuddling in the living room while watching Steven Universe. I enjoyed our making out in the library as we pretended to study. I enjoyed our relationship for whatever it was. But the mere thought of having sex again would literally make me break into a cold sweat and make my anxiety bubble up inside my chest.

I felt like a complete loser. A confused and pathetic loser.

So when the opportunity came up again a month later, I pretended as hard as I could that I was into it. That I wanted it just as much as her.

It was a gradual mistake that kept happening again and again. Until the cup was long past the point of overflowing.

I would have sex with her. And I would touch her and I would hold her down and I would tire her out as much as my teenage stamina would allow me to. I would do everything in my power to avoid Sadie to touch me back. I couldn’t understand why I was acting like that, I just knew that I didn't want it. At that point I knew I only liked her more and more, so I was able to understand that it wasn’t about my feelings for her. It was something else. I had all those feelings for her, but they simply couldn't be translated into sexual ones. I had never been so angry at myself before. 

And then summer came. And I realized that I would no longer be able to avoid the so called reciprocation. I would no longer be able to avoid having to explain to my girlfriend why I didn’t fully share her physical reactions when we were intimate. I had a full blown panic attack on the last day of school. 

Gail convinced a few people to go to a chalet in Aspen. Both Sadie and I belonged to that circle. Gail had personally gone to my house to ask my parents for permission. All prim and proper like the wolf in sheep’s clothing that she used to be. Nothing frustrated me more than when they sweetly agreed to that fucking ordeal.

Despite that it was a nice enough chalet, and it was only for Gail, Celine, two of Gail's cheerleaders, Jessica and Lila, Gail's boyfriend at the time, Brian, Brian's best friend, Tyler, Sadie and me.

It had three rooms. Gail stayed in one with Celine and the cheerleaders, shoved Brian and Tyler in the other one, even though Brian went kicking and screaming and then for some reason beyond my knowledge at the time, placed Sadie and I in the third one. 

I was too tired to freak out and there was alcohol. Lots of it. Brian had brought a whole bag of wine coolers and Smirnoff Ice. By 1 am we were all either drunk or getting there. Gail and Brian were making out in front of everyone while Celine would make gag noises and Tyler would try to charm off any of the available girls. 

I felt Sadie pull twice on my sleeve.

— Do you wanna go upstairs?

No. I didn’t. And still I found myself nodding. She pulled me by the hand and we went upstairs followed by very crass comments of Gail and her minions which included “The house isn’t soundproofed!" by the devil herself "Please keep it down!” by Celine and then “Rock on, lezzies! Gay rights!” from the boys, which I ignored.

I was pretty aware that with one room for just the two of us during a whole week there was very little I could do to avoid _my turn._

So I didn’t. I had carried a wine cooler with me and I downed it all in one go. Sadie laughed, mistaking my nervousness for eagerness.

There was a lot of wet kissing and even some teeth clashing. Neither of us was sober. Clothes weren’t removed as much as they were tore out of our bodies. She positioned herself above me and slid her hand under my waist. I felt cold. I felt drunker than I actually was. As if my head was too heavy to be attached to my body. 

I had never felt more distressed in my whole life.

She kept touching and kissing me and eventually… eventually I felt my body starting to biologically answer to her touch, but still… I wasn’t feeling anything. It was like an out of body experience. My body knew how it was supposed to react. But it wasn’t attached to my brain so they couldn’t communicate that information to the rest of me. I felt something coiling in the pit of my stomach and my breath becoming rare, Sadie pulled herself up in one hand and stared down at me. Her hazy brown eyes were lust filled and so content, that when the tightness finally uncoiled and a breathless noise tore its way up my throat, all I could think about was her eyes. That if her eyes looked so pretty looking at me like that then it couldn’t be so bad, could it? Even if I didn’t feel anything. Even if it was uncomfortable, weird and a bit anxiety inducing… I could do it for her. It wasn’t hurting me. It wasn’t hurting anyone. 

Except it was. And except it did.

It hurt us. And it hurt our relationship. And when the summer was over and we finally returned home, I felt like a stranger inside my own body.

I loved, trusted and cared about Sadie more than I did most people in my life. But we had spent way too much time just fucking. Way too much. It was like a door had opened for Sadie and she couldn’t keep her hands away from me. And I had to pretend to enjoy it. And when we were over it I would be so emotionally spent that I couldn’t even find the energy to return it, which honestly was the part I minded the least. 

I was in love with Sadie, but when I arrived home at the end of that month… I realized that I had lost something more than just my virginity inside that chalet.

Without alcohol and the pulsing energy of our friends around us things had become less blurry. I had become less pliant of things I wasn’t interested in.

We lasted no more than two months after that. We had sex only once during this time. She didn’t break up with me and I didn’t break up with her. It was more like a silent mutual agreement. One day we sat down on my living room, watching Glee and we were very quiet. Everything was very quiet except for One Love playing on the TV. 

— Isn’t working anymore, is it? - it was all she asked.

— I don’t think so. - it was all I answered.

She nodded. And we stayed there until the credits started rolling. She left. She never came back. I don’t remember feeling sad. Just hazy. A bit choked up.

It took me a few days to realize it was just relief. 

Of course the break up messed up my friendship with Gail and the others. They never completely isolated me, but having Sadie and I in the same space was awkward for them and if she was there, I wouldn’t be. And more often than not she was. So it was a bit of an organic thing. 

Mid senior year I found myself back to stage zero. Single and friendless, save for two or three other kind souls that I didn't much mind to keep in touch with after high school was over.

I didn’t date anyone else for the rest of my high school career. I wasn’t traumatized or anything like that. I simply couldn’t find the energy to go through all of that again. I felt emotionally exhausted and I wasn’t sure I could do it again so soon, so I kissed one or two girls and even made out with this one guy at a party just to actually check it off my list once and for all. And yeah, still not attracted to men. In the slightest. 

As I graduated and was accepted in college, I had my first real contact with a word that I had only seen by mistake very quickly on social media a few times.

_Asexuality._

In college I was found by the GSA still on the very first week. And honestly, the Gay Straight Alliance in college is much more helpful than the one in high school. They had many different people in there, of all tastes and sizes and vibes and one of them, Rocco, befriended me right away. 

Rocco was literally a heartthrob. He was a dark haired guy with tattoos, melancholic blue eyes and a stupid charming southern accent. He could pick up any girl he wanted, no doubt about that. But it wasn’t useful for him. At least not completely.

— I’m demisexual.

All I knew about Demi Lovato is that she was on Disney. I had no fucking clue of what “demisexual" was supposed to mean. I had a guess, but I was really hoping that it wasn’t the case. Because gross. 

Rocco explained to me as best as he could.

— It’s similar to asexuality, it’s like when more often than not sex doesn’t interest you, but after becoming very close to someone and creating some sort of emotional stability… or just an overall deep bond of love... you can do it more easily.

— I think I get it but…. What's asexuality?

That was when my mind was elevated for the very first time. Rocco explained patiently what asexuality was supposed to mean. And how our very own GSA president, Simon, was asexual himself. Nobody actually cared that much. He just liked to kiss boys, but wouldn’t have sex with them. Rocco explained to me that asexuality was a label created to explain people who felt no sexual attraction whatsoever. Can still fall in love and all that jazz, but sex was in most cases, completely off the table.

  
  


_"Asexuality is the lack of sexual attraction to others, or low or absent interest in or desire for sexual activity. It may be considered a sexual orientation or the lack thereof. It may also be categorized more widely to include a broad spectrum of asexual sub-identities."_

_\- as found on Wikipedia, again._

Just the basics of Asexuality For Dummies 101 for those who are just as uneducated as I was. I spent the night researching about it. I now knew I could get answers for what was supposedly wrong with me. I had a name for it. So maybe there was a way to fix it too. I remember being desperate after a cure. As if that detail about myself was a cold or a broken leg and I could heal it somehow. 

That's how I found all those dumb ass Wikipedia articles and how Rocco became one of my best friends in life at that point and until this very day. 

College kept going and a few months later, after some self-searching I had a new girlfriend, Hanna and a new school therapist, Dr. Veronica Bartok, whom happened to be Hanna's aunt. I was on my way to become a much, much better Charlie and I was very certain that whole asexuality thing would be nothing but a funny memory to tell stories about as soon as I was done with it. 

It was an impossibly wrong mindset to have. But considering it now, I still didn’t have enough information and as much as I was surrounded by people very available to help me, I was also crazy desperate to not be the broken one again. If I had found the name of the thing, then I clearly could find the cure to it. Therapy was the first step. But I had way too many walls to break in with Dr. Bartok. I didn't tell her straight away I could be asexual, mostly because even though I knew about the whole "doctor–patient privilege" I still didn't completely trust her not to tell everything to Hanna. I know today that it was a horribly distrustful relationship to have with my own therapist but more often than not I felt like I had very little choice about most things in my life. It was incredibly bothersome. 

And that was how I chose to start a relationship with Hanna. Filled to the brim with self-distrust, internalized hate and unable to speak without telling at least one little fucking white lie. 

Hanna Bartok was two years older than me and was studying to become a doctor. She wanted to be cardiologist. 

I was doing History of Art with a minor in French. No correlation whatsoever between the two of us. But it was nice. She was nice. She was kind and sweet and spiritual. My friends liked her, her friends also liked me. There was very little antagonism and anxiety in our interactions. At least through the first month. 

I wasn't stupid. I had just turned 18 and I knew exactly what kind of naturalness was expected of me as an adult and with other adults. I never held that against Hanna. But it just so happened that with her... things were slightly easier. College kept everyone busy most of the time - not to mention Medicine students - and Hanna was a natural born pillow princess. As much as she would want sex every now and then, she never really pushed for the whole retribution part of the process. And I didn't necessarily mind the giving part of it. It was actually the only part I kinda enjoyed without feeling so exposed and violated. Watching as my partner reached any sort of relief through something that made absolutely no fucking sense to me. It was just easy to keep our relationship going and I'm pretty sure Hanna and I would have gotten married and done the whole white picket fence, two dogs and some kids had things worked out the way they were supposed to have worked. Hadn't I simply ruined things with my gigantic ass mouth and paranoid behavior. 

I was having occasional bouts of anxiety which made Dr. Bartok send me to a psychiatrist who recommended me Elavil so I could get a break from the worst case scenarios. The medication would make me a bit sleepy and thirsty but nothing big. I had told Hanna about it, more often than not she would be the one reminding me to take it and one of the few people who complimented my emotional system. 

I was building up courage to have the "asexual" conversation with Dr. Bartok but I would always get cold feet about it. Too nervous. Too scared. Too complacent. 

And then came in Christmas of 2011. I had chosen to spend with my family since both my brothers would also be back home for the Holidays. It was only fair. 

My parents never had too much trouble with me liking girls, for Mary Ann and Jared Grigsby as long as I was happy it was alright for them. They just wanted some grandchildren and the rest was confetti. 

But you see, someone had put too much brandy on the eggnog. And I decided for some reason that it would be a good idea to mix up Elavil and alcohol. So I became sleepy as hell. And sleepy me was a blabbermouth. 

So around 11 pm my dad asked me about Hanna and about some of our plans for the future. And my answer was: 

— I'm managing it. If I'm able to hang on for two more years maybe we get married, I guess. I don’t know.

— Hang on? Hang on what, darling?- that was my mom. 

— Hating sex. Fucking hate the whole thing. Gotta have it anyway. It's whatever. I'm managing it. 

I don't remember saying any of it, it was my brother, Donnie, who retold me the story word for word when I woke up on the next day with a messed up hangover. He also told me how worried my parents were at the prospect of what could have led me to that particular "choice". Had I been abused at some point? Was I traumatized? Had something happened to me? Had they done something wrong?

It was a no for all of those questions. But it wasn't something easy to explain. 

I had fucked up. Big time. 

My parents were extra concerned about me. They thought I had something psychologically wrong with me. I thought so as well. So once my siblings went back to their respective colleges and the holidays were over, both my parents returned with me to school to speak with Dr. Bartok. That was my worst case scenario. 

I never came out to her, my parents came out for me. They kept asking Dr. Bartok if there was any kind of therapy for cases like mine. Not for my crippling anxiety. No. For asexuality. If I could get better from it. If she could use hypnosis to understand what happened. I had never seen Dr. Bartok so serious before. 

— Someone could get better from being asexual just as much as they could get better from being hetero or homosexual, Mr. Grigsby. There's no cure if there's no disease. 

My parents were a bit bummed and a lot confused since they couldn't quite grasp the concept of asexuality. And me? I was terrified. 

I was terrified Dr. Bartok would tell Hanna that I was nothing but a fraud. I was terrified that my parents would see me as some sort of freak. I was terrified of losing Hanna. Being gay was one thing, anyone could understand the concept of boys fucking boys or girls fucking girls. But not being sexually attracted to anyone? That was something else entirely. So I made my own decisions. 

And at the end of them I lost Hanna anyways. 

I decided I no longer needed to attend Dr. Bartok's sessions. She tried to reason with me, she said nothing would never leave her office as it had never left before but I was too scared. I told her I needed to focus on myself for sometime and she pretended to understand. She only requested me to improve my communication skills. To talk to Hanna. She knew her niece, she knew Hanna had a bigger heart and a better mindset that I ever gave her credit for. Than at that specific time I’d give anyone credit for. But I was a terrified 18 year old and my choice on that particular segment would follow me around for a really long time. 

As Hanna and I kept our relationship going and I discussed with Rocco a few of my worries, he advised me to talk to Simon since he had been out for the world for a significant amount of time. 

Simon was a pretty boy. By all means and matters he was a full blown Tumblr soft boy. Cute glasses, soft jumpers, fluffy hair, sweet smile and from the smallness of his 21 years old of age, he looked way wiser. 

— I dated this guy once. Mark. Handsome from head to toe, so cute and charming I was legit allowing him to dumb me down. None of my other boyfriends had ever insisted of fucking me before, but he did. He insisted a lot. For months. So eventually one night I let him, I said fuck it, what harm can it cause? — Simon told me during our first conversation. 

Rocco, him and I gathered around a table in a nice coffee shop near college. I was literally hanging onto every word that came out of Simon's mouth. It was scary how much I could relate to him. 

— Turns out that letting a horny drunk dude fuck you for your first time is an ultra shitty idea and before yelling at him to get the fuck out of me, I honestly felt like somebody was just trying to poke my hole with a very unnecessarily warm rod. Fucking horrible it was.

Rocco literally doubled down laughing, I cringed a little. 

— But then I met Josh a few months ago and he's pretty much the best guy I've ever met. Of course I was a bit wary at first since he was already dating Kyla, but Kyla is also one of the best girls in the world. So we've been together for what now... seven months? Yeah something like that.

Simon and his boyfriend, Josh were in some sort of open relationship. I mean, not exactly open, but Josh had a girlfriend too, Kyla Benson from Engineering. Simon would also kiss some people every now and then. It was their thing and it was working terribly well. They had one of the healthiest relationships I had ever witnessed ever.

— Communication is the key, honestly. Between Josh and I, Josh and Kyla and even between Kyla and I. We gotta talk everything out. Just cheer luck that all three of us love talking so much.

None of that was news to anyone, but hearing like that, first hand, made everything look so much easier. So much smarter. So Simon couldn't have sex with Josh, but Kyla could and Kyla was slightly less romance orientated than both boys so they could enjoy that one part. Not to mention Kyla and Simon were literally the best friends ever. And then it ringed to me. Of fucking course!

I could open my relationship with Hanna and allow her to be with people more sexually orientated and then if she ever came to find out I wasn't interested in sex, maybe she would also understand that I had let her have other people because I loved her enough not to want her to miss out on anything. 

At that time, it sounded like an extra brilliant idea to me. 

It was really a shame that I had forgotten a few very relevant details. 

Hanna was a great communicator. I wasn't. Communication was key and ours was honestly pretty bad. Still, I insisted on a mistake that would cost me someone I held very dear and near to my heart. 

On a Saturday afternoon, after Hanna had arrived from class, I sat her down on my bed and asked her what were her thoughts on open relationships and polyamory. 

— I never... actually gave much thought to it? I don’t know, Charlie... I mean, I have nothing against it? - she seemed incredibly confused, which caused my chest to tighten up a little. 

Hanna and I were happy. If not for our very awkward, lackluster and somewhat painful to me sex life. We were happy. I know within my heart that we were. And I messed up. I messed up badly. Because I was scared. Because I was afraid to be myself and whatever that could imply.

I trembled a little before proposing us a try on this alternative lifestyle. Maybe bringing someone else to our relationship. Or simply opening it up as a whole. Hanna didn't seem to understand where I was coming from. Not even for a hot second. I could read her face like you read a children's book. Clearly. She was transparent. And she was bewildered. Still, she said yes. 

Actually she said:

— I guess so. Do you have anything in mind?

And no. I didn't. But it was like a silent agreement. From that moment on we were together, but in an open relationship. An open relationship filled to the brim with miscommunication and lies. The perfect recipe for disaster.

A month and a half after our first conversation I received a text from Marie, a trans girl from the GSA. It was a picture of Hanna in a bar with another girl. Kissing. I felt something get caught in my throat. 

_"What the fuck is up with this?"_

_"Should we kick her ass?"_

Those were the follow up texts sent by Marie. I felt... I don't think I can exactly put into words the way I felt. I felt off. Like something was actually actively breaking my heart. The worst part is that it was all my idea. 

_"Nah. Relax. We're open."_ I sent back, praying that the kids at the pub wouldn't bother them. Wouldn’t make it worse.

I had to keep reminding myself that it was my idea. It was my fault. I had come up with that stupidity all on my own. 

Hanna came to see me the next day during lunch and I managed to forget what Marie had sent me. I ignored its existence as best as I could. But still, in the back of mind, that information kept being chewed on. Hanna was already seeing other people. Hanna was kissing and most likely fucking someone else. Sometimes, late at night, a few minutes before falling asleep, I had the faint sensation I was finally driving myself insane. 

In October my psychiatrist increased my dose. I started going to sleep very early and from the day that picture was sent, Hanna and I never shared a bed for anything other than sleeping ever again. 

On the Thanksgiving break of 2012 I went out with Rocco, Simon and a few other kids of the GSA to a beach house in Idaho. Hanna would stay with her family and mine had traveled to the countryside to visit some of my mom's family members. I just wasn't in the mood. 

I think it's very fair to say that I wasn't out as asexual to pretty much anyone. As far as they knew I was just a very introverted bambi lesbian. Only Rocco, Simon, my parents, my siblings and Dr. Bartok knew about this sort of alternative sexual orientation (or lack thereof). I wasn't comfortable with that. Looking back, I was just a total jerk. No need in denying that. 

But during that small holiday things didn't go the way I had planned. Not by a mile. 

I didn't knew much about Kyla. All I knew about her was that she shared a boyfriend with Simon and was a book smart type of girl. She had rainbow colored hair and was an advocate for LGBTQ+ rights and also for polyamory. I wasn't 100% sure about her own sexual orientation but if I had to bet I'd say something between pan or queer. She was a people's person. And somehow my brand new status as someone in an open relationship had end up on her ears through Marie's very large mouth. 

"So how's the new life so far?" she asked, sitting right next to me around the bonfire some of the boys had managed to light up. 

— I wouldn't necessarily call it a new life. - I laughed, trying to shrug off the choked up feeling in my gut.

— Oh c'mon Charlie. New doors are opening up for you right now. I say that with some property. - she joked. 

She had a point and at the same time she didn't. I was doing that whole thing for Hanna and not for me. There were only so many people who would be ok with lots of kissing and nothing else. 

We talked the whole night. Kyla was hilarious in a very inappropriate way. She was a very comfortable person to be around. 

Around 2 am when everyone was either too high or too sleepy, she laid her head on my shoulder, sighing and mumbling about something I couldn't quite understand. I remember laughing a little at how unexpectedly soft Kyla was being. 

— Am I being funny? - she inquired me.

I denied and then she was just staring into my eyes. The beat dropped.

— Charlie... I'm gonna kiss you right now.

I swallowed nervously. Josh was right there on the other side of the barely lit fire, Simon was napping on his chest while he talked quietly with some other girl. I think he felt my eyes on him because Josh looked right back at me. He looked at us for a moment and then smiled, poking Simon awake and I could almost hear Simon's muffled "Gosh!" when he buried his face back into Josh's chest. Josh laughed while shaking his head and went back to his conversation. 

A few steps behind him, smoking a joint with a pretty girl on his arm, Rocco stared at me like a confused puppy. Questioning me with his stupidly beautiful blue eyes. I chose to ignore him. 

— Josh… - I stuttered, trying to come up with a reason not to do it. 

— Really doesn't mind. - she answered.

— But Hanna...

— Charlie, neither of us is cheating. - she told me, place a calming hand on my cheek, wiping something invisible near my eye — That's the whole point of it... And honestly, I really want to do it.

Her eyes were brown, a shade darker than my own that more often than not looked kinda hazel and they were staring at me with such conviction... I had no idea how much I missed not having to keep control over everything. Kyla knew what she was doing and that was attractive. It was alluring. Good or bad, Hanna and I were in an open relationship and she was already seeing other people. So why couldn't I? That was what I reasoned with myself. 

And that's why I allowed Kyla to kiss me. 

She smelled like sand, honey ginger and Californian weed. She also tasted like all of that. It was addictive. 

We kissed for hours. I think the sun was just rising when we stopped kissing and stared at the rosy colored skies. It was so spectacular I still remember as if it was yesterday. She passed a leg over my waist and laid her head on my chest. 

— Kyla… - I whispered, half expecting her to be asleep. 

— Yeah...?

— I think... no, I am... I am...

— It's ok, Charlie. Whatever it is, you can say it. - her voice was still a bit sleepy, but I knew she was paying attention. 

— I'm asexual...

That was the first time I said it out loud. The first time I even thought about it without feeling some sort of internalized acephobia. It was so weird. Good weird. 

— Yeah? - she moved a little, so she could look at me again. 

There was nothing to give away any sort of negative feelings in her expression. She just seemed... interested. Not even curious. Her boyfriend's boyfriend was ace too so all of her wilder questions must've been answered a good while ago. 

I nodded back at her. She placed a peck on my lips. 

— It's cool. Now Simon won't be such a brat about being a – as he put it, a lone asexual wolf in a sea of horny bumblebees – I meant it, Charlie. It's cool… - she stopped for a second and looked a bit serious for a moment. — We can still kiss, right? You were ok with that?

— Sure. - I smiled a little — I like kissing.

— I like kissing too. - she grinned and then kissed me again. 

I felt so relaxed during those four days to the point I couldn't even remember feeling so fine before. Hanna and I would talk at least once a day. I would call or she would call, but every time it would happen I would feel a little bit more guilty. A little bit heavier. Even though technically I wasn't doing anything wrong, technicalities where never my forte. 

Kyla would wake up and at the breakfast table she would kiss Josh and then me and then she would kiss Simon because he would be making mean faces. I wasn't a part of their relationship and she wasn't a part of mine – we wouldn't ever become – but it was natural for the people around us. And natural was good. No pressure. No charges. 

And then Thanksgiving was over and we had to head back home. Hanna was waiting for us at the airport. Her pretty smile and kind eyes were the first things I saw as soon as I laid my feet in New York. I was suddenly reminded that I still loved her very much, despite my cowardice, despite my lies and despite my stupid plans. 

I hid from her the fact I was occasionally making out with my president's sister-wife.

But then the make out sessions became outings without Josh and Simon and we'd go on dates with Rocco and his new girlfriend, Lara. We'd talk about ridiculous things. It was nice. But deep down, despite my shallow reasoning, I also knew it wasn't completely right. Kyla and I never actually held any sort of romantic feelings towards each other, but we got along too well and be together was good for the two of us. We never confused things. We never got it wrong. It was good because it was easy. 

I knew Hanna was seeing other people as well even though she never directly mentioned it. Sometimes she would just say she was going out with a "friend" or something like that. But I also knew it never crossed her mind that I was seeing Kyla. They were never friends, but they knew each other. That was the worst part of it.

The lies. The chicken shit. The waiting to be caught and then only then coming up with some half-assed excuse. Because that was exactly what I did. 

One night Hanna told me she was going out with some friends from class. I told her I would also be hanging out with people from the GSA. It turns out that I had escaped karma for almost 3 months and then on that specific night there was some good stuff happening on Hudson Street and well, karma finally caught up with me.

I was with Kyla, Marie and two other girls. But Kyla and I were pretty much focused on each other. It was a nonverbal date night. 

Rocco tried to go with us but had to be reminded that his position as a "lesbro" was only valid where we could stop him from being beaten to a pulp by very angry lesbians. I sure as hell wouldn't fight a bull dyke over Rocco. Not a chance in hell. 

For the most part, the night went as it should have. We went to the bar, drunk a little, danced, tried to talk a bit over the loud ass music. We kissed a lot. It was fun. Energetic. Mostly because some part of me knew deep down that I could enjoy my time with Kyla as much as possible. That I wouldn't need to worry about what would come "after". It was the moment and the moment was ours. Around 1 am the DJ started to play softer songs, everyone was very mellow and it fitted the mood. When Joan Jett's Crimson & Clover hit the speakers Kyla put her arms around my neck and placed her smile against mine. She kissed my eyes, my chin, my cheeks and went back to my lips. It was just as soft as it sounds. I couldn't stop smiling. 

— Uh, Charlie… - Marie's anxious voice pierced through the moment.

I looked at her, trying to understand what was so important that she had to interrupt while we were clearly busy. She pointed at something behind my head, over Kyla's shoulder and on the dark and blinking lights of the club I had to squint my eyes a little to see it better. The first thing I managed to see was a pale face, surrounded by a mass of strawberry blonde hair, lips thinned in a very controlled expression. I felt cold from head to toe. It was Hanna. Of course it was. 

I was very aware that technically that wasn't supposed to be cheating. We had an agreement. She had other people. And yet, it felt like cheating. From day one it felt like cheating. 

— Go talk to to her. - Kyla said, also looking in Hanna's direction. 

I looked back at her and her calm enthusiastic expression and nodded, making a move to go in Hanna's direction, but Hanna just shook her head and turned around, disappearing again back into the crowd. I felt something akin to panic start to swell up inside my chest. 

— Hey… - Kyla touched my shoulder, bringing my attention back to her — It's alright. You guys can talk back at the dorm. Give her some space.

Kyla tried as best she could. She told me how it had been a bit awkward for Josh and her when they started seeing other people as well, because they were very much in love with each other. She told me that when she saw Josh for the very first time with another girl she had to rethink about their own agreement and maybe all Hanna and I had to do was also that. Talk. 

For some reason, even then I didn't think that would work wonders for us. Still I allowed her to fill my ears with pretty hypothesis, but the mood had already been pretty much ruined. I knew Hanna wasn't mad at me for being with someone else. Not exclusively. She probably wasn't even mad. She was just... frustrated that it was someone she knew. She was distressed that she could clearly see in my eyes how much affection I had for Kyla and that wasn't exactly in the contract. 

We only saw each other the next day. I thought Hanna would ask for some explanation or at least be a bit passive aggressive about it, considering her first reaction. But pretty much she just pretended it didn't happen. She pecked my lips when I arrived at her dorm. She kept reading her books, head resting on my thighs while I watched a rerun of Full House. I was on the edge. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it didn't. Not for the following two weeks. 

Kellan, one of Hanna's best friends' birthday was right on the corner and we had to go out to buy him something, since money was a bit short, we decided to give him something as a couple. I had no idea what the dude liked so I just allowed Hanna to drag me around going from store to store until she could find something that would match him well. We went to game stores, clothing stores and even to some weirdly expensive chocolate stores. But nothing was "it" according to her. At the end, she stopped in a store called "Lusting Athena". Considering the barely dressed mannequins with masks on their faces and whips in their hands, I could deduce very quickly what was up that particular store. My face was burning when we got in. 

Hanna took her time looking around and asking whatever this and that was to the attendant. I just wanted to run the fuck away from there. That shit was embarrassing enough. At the end she chose some sort of heating thingy that people for some reason put inside their bodies and other that I think it was a flashlight... look, I tried not to pay too much attention to it. I was already too anxious as it was. 

When the attendant turned around to go pack her choices, Hanna looked at me holding something medium still encased in a plastic box. She turned its front to me and I could easily identify a silicone penis. 6 inches at most. It was blue and silly looking. 

— It has a harness. - she said with clearly calculated indifference in her voice. 

— It looks ok, I guess… - I tried — But baby, I'm struggling a little to see what Kellan would do with something like this.

She shut her eyes and then stared at me with a bit of exasperation. 

— Not for Kellan... for us...

I swallowed hard. It almost didn't pass my throat. I went from eight to eighty in the blink on an eye. Internally freaking out like a doofus. So much so that for a second I even got some tunnel vision. 

— For us?

— Yeah... you said we should be trying new things. This is a new thing. - she commented. 

For a second I really wished I had been honest with her prior to that situation, because that was not the moment to be honest and that little silly looking shit was 50 bucks and I sure as hell wasn't even a little bit interested in using it. Be it on giving or – God fucking forbid – receiving end. But what else was I supposed to say? She was trying to save that relationship in ways I clearly was failing to do. 

— I guess...

— So it's a yes?

I nodded my head once, not knowing for sure what I was supposed to look like. 

I can't even remember what I was thinking at that moment. I remember she bought the thing. I remember we went to Kellan's party and he showed off his anus flashlight like a goddamn trophy. I remember us getting high and Hannah kissing me at the stairs back to the dorm. I remember kissing her back. We were giggling and stupid and then we got to her dorm and she went to get something out of under the bed. 

She disposed carelessly of the case and took the silicone penis out of it. She didn't even mind asking if we could it use it at the moment. I didn't blame her. Both of our minds were hazy from the weed and hers particularly hazier from whatever sort of stuff goes on through a horny mind. I couldn't relate.

— So how do we do this? - she asked more to herself than for me. 

I had no answers to her. I just shrugged. 

— I can go first then. - she said and then started to meddle with the harness and locking something, putting things in place. 

Hanna came back to the bed and placed herself above me. Kissing me deeply. She tasted like champagne. I tried to kiss her back as intensely as I could, but my mind couldn't detach itself from the fact that we were heading towards more. That after a few months without that kind of contact I'd have to go through that act again. I started to tense up. And then I felt at the same time, her lips against my neck and the tip of something slightly cold and soft against my thigh. 

I felt all of my muscles lock into place. Lock so hard an uncomfortable pain lodged itself at the back of my neck. I felt like I was going to throw up--

— Get off...Han...get.. get off... get off me! - I choked out, pushing Hanna off of me and running to the bathroom, locking the door behind me and spilling my goddamn guts down the toilet.

I stayed there for an hour maybe more. Hanna tried to make me open the door for a few minutes. She kept asking if I was alright, if it was something she did. But eventually I heard her sighing and walking away. I was on the verge of a panic attack. 

I couldn't understand why I had let myself go that far. If I had just talked to her wouldn't it be just easier? If she ended up choosing not to be with be anymore then that was it. We would be done. It would hurt, but it couldn't be worse than the constant lying and psychological torture. Shouldn't I have a say in it? Shouldn't Hanna have a say in it? I wouldn't be able to spend the rest of my life pretending to enjoy sex or running away whenever it became too much to me. She wouldn't be able to pretend to understand it forever either. For Christ's sake. 

It wouldn't be fair with neither of us. And frankly, I had no one to blame but myself. 

When I finally calmed down, I decided to take a shower and then leave the bathroom. Hanna was already in bed, the room was dark if only for her bedside lamp. I went to get dressed. All I wanted was to leave. 

— Are you leaving? - she asked, as soon as I started to put on my socks. 

— Shouldn't I? 

— No. - she answered — Not right now. 

She laid on her back and patted the other side of the bed, inviting me to join her again. I took a deep breath and did as she requested, also laying on my back, hands resting on my stomach. 

Hanna didn't say anything else. We stayed like that. Staring at the ceiling, until the two of us got too tired to pretend everything was alright and just fell asleep. 

When I woke up the next day she was not in bed. She was already in the kitchen eating her daily scrambled eggs with spinach. I could see the other half of it still in the pan, so I went to get some. 

— Morning. -I greeted her, my voice hoarse. 

— Morning.

The sun was shining against the window pane. But inside that dorm everything felt cold. Sterile. 

I sat across from her and started eating. Taking a quick look, I noticed how tired she looked. We remained in silence for around five minutes and then I could physically feel as she raised her head and looked at me dead in the eye. 

— Is sex with her any good?

I choked. At first I had no idea of what she was talking about. 

— Sex with who? - I almost whispered, too shocked.

— Kyla. - Hanna answered simply. 

I was completely out of my element. I wasn't even that awake to begin with. I had no idea where that had come from. I fucking hated that whole situation. My throat became dry and tight as if it was shrivelling onto itself. 

— We don't... have sex. 

— Yeah, right." she scoffed, irony dripping from her voice like venom. 

— We don't. - I insisted. — We never had sex, Hanna. It's not like that.

She looked at me like I was some sort of retard. And then scoffed again. Rolling her eyes and shoving a spoonful inside her mouth. 

— Well, you kiss plenty, huh? - I tried to say something, but she interrupted me — Cut it out, Charlie.

— Why would I need to lie about it? - I asked, a little bit offended. 

— Why wouldn't you? You already did it once. 

So that was it. Finally. The shoe was hanging and then it dropped. She was taking her time, waiting for something. My eyes were hurting. That was a fucked up situation. 

— I didn't... I just...

— Was this whole open relationship thing your way of saying you were just fucking done with us? Why couldn't you just say it, then?

Her voice was angry. Frustrated. She kept looking at me, as if she was hoping my expressions could give away more than my words were. And then getting incredibly irritated when they didn't. 

— Ok, that's not fair! - was all I could come up with. 

— Then what was it?

— I just thought we could try something new! - that was a fucking lie. 

— Were you bored?

— No...

— Then what the fuck was it? - she finally yelled, slapping her hand in the table, making me jump a little. 

— I thought you were having a good time. Weren't you out with girls as well? 

— Because I was trying to make some fucking sense of it! - she got up, exasperated — None of them were my fucking girlfriend, Charlotte!

— I thought I was doing it for you! - I finally yelled back, still sat down. Hating the way she had called me by my full name. 

— What's that even supposed to mean, Charlie?!

Her voice was low again, confused. That whole situation was so fucked up. I was so fucked up. And now I was fucking _her_ up. Everything was fucked up. Jesus Christ. I hid my face on my hands, breathing heavily. 

— Look, we need to... we need to calm down... this isn't going anywhere...

— What's that supposed to MEAN, Charlotte? - her voice was angry again. She couldn't handle being left in the dark anymore. 

— Hanna, really...

— Did you stop loving me?

That made me get up, wide-eyed. I stared at her like she was crazy. 

— No. - I whispered.

— Did you fell in love with her? - this question was followed by an almost conformist tone, like she was just trying to come up with an explanation. And that was only fair. But it was also just so fucking hard. 

— No, that's not it...

— Then what the f... - she stopped suddenly, looking at me one more time — Was the sex shit?

That fucking word again. Sex. Sex. Sex. Everything was about sex. I was just so tired. So tired. I sighed. Too tired to come up with another negative. 

— So it was it? The sex...

— Hanna, listen...

— Why didn't you say something? There are a thousand different ways to improve sex life without opening a relationship, Charlie! We tried some of it yesterday and you freaked out! Am I the problem? What is it?!

She decided to yell again and I followed on her rhythm. Two could tango and two could scream just as loud as the other. 

— That was not the problem!

— Then what was it?! - she yelled AGAIN and I couldn't take it anymore. 

— I didn't want to have sex anymore! So I thought that if you could have it with other people maybe we wouldn't need to break up. - that was the most honest I had ever been with her in almost two years of relationship.

— This doesn't even make sense! If you didn't want to...

Being honest even if a little, tasted sweet. I felt something uncomfortable leaving my shoulder blades. I could only imagine what being completely honest would do to me. Hanna deserved my honesty even if it finally put our relationship in the grave it had been flirting with for so long. So I made the only possible choice. 

— I hate it. 

— What?

— I hate sex. As a whole. I hate it. I never liked it. I don't like being naked with someone else. I don't like the moaning, the trashing. I don't like the physical vulnerability it implies. I never did. I don't think I ever will.

All of that was said in whispers, but she could hear me. The world was silent. She could fucking hear me. Hanna walked back a little, still staring at me. She looked fucking shocked. That was it. That's the word. Shocked. 

— You're like... what… asexual?

— Yeah...

— And you never considered telling me...

— I didn't want you to think I was a fraud...

— Do you really, honestly, believe I would have minded, Charlie? - she said my name like it was a cuss, I felt it on my chest — Do you even know me at all?

I had no answers for her questions. 

— Hanna…

— My aunt knows?

— I never told her, but...

— Kyla knows, doesn't she? - she wouldn't allow me to run anymore. She had had enough. 

— She... yes, she does...

I just wanted to run and hide. There was no fight instinct. It was just flee. Hanna's eyes... I had never seen them so betrayed before, so hurt. Like she was about to either cry or rage at me in any second. I wish I had enough strength to tell her to just beat the shit out of me. Take her anger out on me. Her betrayal out on me. That was the girl I loved and I had fucked up so bad I had no idea how I just didn't started hating myself right there and then. My head felt like it was about to implode. 

— I could care less if you're ace the base or a fucking pervert, Charlie. I loved you... I... fuck... I still do... I still love you... - that made me shake a little, that was so unfair — I just hate the fact that you're a coward and a liar.

— Hanna...

— I can't even look at you right now. - she said, before turning her back on me and leaving the dorm. 

As dumb as it may sound, Hanna and I didn't break up right away. It wasn't one of those over dramatic things where she left by snapping the door shut behind her back. Things crumbled down leisurely. Almost in slow-motion. A few days after the fight we sat down and talked for a few good hours. There were some tears and some awkward silences, but at the end we decided that we should and could try again. We decided to close our relationship one more time. I had no qualms against that. I had to talk to Kyla and she was and probably still is to this very day one of the most supportive people I've ever met in my whole life. She told me to improve my communication with Hanna, to work on it, to go back to therapy and try a new approach. I couldn't agree more. 

We remained together through other four months, but to this day I still can't say who was tortured the most during that time. The lack of sex wasn't a problem for Hanna. We were almost six months without it. The problem was that we had chosen to stay together for all the wrong reasons. Hanna chose to stay so she could prove to herself that dating an asexual person wasn't a problem for her. I chose to stay to prove to myself that I wasn't a total scumbag that couldn't be in a healthy commitment. So I willingly chose to stay on my most toxic relationship to this date. 

Hanna no longer trusted me. Be it with colleagues or friends, whenever she would see me with another girl she would feel the need to ask if whoever this girl was she knew that we no longer we were open. I couldn't even look at Kyla when we were together because she would feel like I was hiding something from her all over again. Hanna once said that she wouldn't have minded if I had fucked - not that I would - the whole college union. It wasn't the physical aspect that she minded. It was the emotional. As for me, I had no reasons not to trust her and I still very much loved her in my own disturbed way, but the more she would pressure me into being honest, the more it would put a strain between us. 

It was over with a bang. 

— I don't love you anymore. - she said one night, when we were at her dorm, eating Thai. After almost an hour of uncomfortable silence. 

I remember looking at her and not knowing what to say. 

— If I'm being completely true, I think I might even hate you a little. - she completed, her voice starting to come out a bit hoarse. 

— I understand. - was all I could come up with. 

— Yeah, I know you do. That's the worst part of it.

She left the table and went to the bathroom. I stayed in the kitchen, not knowing if I should leave or what. My hands were shaking and my chest was tight. But I had no idea of what to do. It took me a few minutes to notice that I was silently crying. I called Rocco. 

— I think Hanna just broke up with me.

— Fuck... - he whispered under his breath — I knew this was coming... Come over, punk. I’ll call one of her friends and ask them to take a look at her. You should come here. I have ice cream.

And that was pretty much how Hanna and I broke up. We didn't talk for a few weeks after that. As we had slightly similar groups of friends, which made avoiding each other a bit difficult, we didn't. Time passed and it healed us and I wouldn't say we became friends as much as we became polite acquaintances. 

Single again, I had the chance to become closer to the notion of asexuality. Simon would take me to some group meetings of people under the spectrum and I'd meet new amazing folks every other month. I also started searching up about it more on forums and on Tumblr and it was quite comforting knowing that I wasn't alone. That I wasn't the odd one out. That everything that I considered weird and off putting about that whole situation was just another characteristic about me. 

Gay men could be asexual. Lesbians could be asexual. Bi and pan people could also be asexual. Straight people could be as well. What you liked romantically wasn't linked to what you liked sexually. But then there were those people who were not only ace but also aromantic. If we're being honest I always thought that being aromantic was considerably worse than just being asexual. Not falling in love, that was more of a punishment that I would ever be able to take. 

But I learned a lot. And the years passed and I chose to keep myself to myself for some time. I had a very short affair with another asexual girl named Nancy, but it wasn't meant to last; she lived in Austria and we were too different for our own good. 

As much as I was able and wished to eventually be in a relationship and then get married and even have some kids – why not? - I also didn't mind just being surrounded by queerplatonic lovers. Rocco, Kyla, Simon and Josh had become my supporting system and I loved them quite a lot. I loved them like my second family. 

As we graduated, Rocco and I found a place with a fair enough rent and chose to remain near Union Square. Our favorite trouble got an apartment in the Upper East Side, paid by Josh's filthy rich liberal parents as a graduation gift. We'd still see each other every other day.

On August of 2014 I found a job in a school nearby. To teach high schoolers. My damn worst nightmare. But the pay was good and it was my first real job. I wasn't in such a position to be picky about it. Rocco who had graduated in gastronomy also found a job in a restaurant and together we were managing to keep an at least comfortable life. 

Two months in and I was forced by the school to chaperon two classes of freshmen in a trip to the museum. Me and the actual Arts teacher, some soft rock looking dude called Jeremy Cook. We handled it just fine, but next to the museum there was an Art Gallery and three of my favorite students, Paul, Alex and Angelica, who weren't neither lazy shits nor a bunch of smart asses, requested me to take them there, to see if there was anything more interesting than bullshit War Histories. I informed Jeremy and practically ran with the trio there. I graduated in History of Art to see - guess what - fucking art! Not a bunch of white men in silly clothes shooting at each other like a mob of demented buffoons. 

There was an exposition called _"Written in Fuchsia Color."_ Ultra realistic paintings focused in almost psychedelic tones of fuchsia. It was beautiful. 

— Do you know the name of the artist, Ms. Grigsby? - Alex asked looking around with his big brown eyes full of wonder. 

I didn't have the heart to tell him no. 

— I'll ask, alright? 

And I left the three of them there as I followed into the gallery to look for someone to give me the name of the damn artist. A few minutes and I found a young girl with blue hair and a friendly smile. 

— Hi, excuse me! Do you work here?

— Yes! How may I help you?

— Uh, I'm a teacher and I'm here with a few students and they would like to know a bit more about the painter and their work. Could you help us?

The girl opened an even bigger smile and nodded eagerly. 

— I could do even better! The artist is here right now, she's just leaving a reunion with the owners, but she absolutely adores talking to the public. I'll ask her to talk to you guys, is that ok?

— It's perfect! - I happily answered, before returning to the kids. 

Alex, Paul and Angel were even more excited than I was. It was not everyday you could meet an actual artist during their exposition. Fuck the War Museum, honestly. Getting a first hand tour with an actual soul was the experience I'd like them to have. 

— Good evening! Are you guys the students? - a calm delicate voice asked behind me. — I'm the artist of this week's exposition... I'm...

The trio didn't let her finish, rushing in her direction exchanging handshakes and pleasantries. The questions were shot without rest: "What's your inspiration?" "Why fuchsia?" "How long is your work gonna stay here?". 

— Ok, ok! Let's calm down for a minute! Let's introduce ourselves first, ok?

The kids blushed a little and the woman smiled. During the whole introduction I was left with a very weird sense of... _I'm pretty sure I know this person._ I just couldn't exactly put a name to the face. Something was different... but I knew her. 

I let the kids introduce themselves and the woman followed them shortly after. 

— Nice to meet you, guys! I'm Abigail Hurst and I'll walk you through my work today!

Oh shit! I felt my mouth snap open in shock. 

— Abigail Hurst?! - I exclaimed out loud — As in Hail the Gail Hurst?

She looked at me weirdly for a second and the her eyes opened comically wide and she walked in my directions with her arms open. 

— Charlie? Charlie Grigsby? Oh my god!

She hugged me so tight I was left a bit speechless. 

Gail was completely different. Her beach tanned skin was long gone, giving place to an almost pale tone if not for a few freckles, clearly leftovers of so many years abusing the sun. Her dyed bleached blonde hair was now in a more natural tone, almost brownish blonde and her whole demeanor was different as well. Whereas before was a petulant overachiever with a bunch of minions following her every step, was now a clearly more confident woman who had pretty much started to understand herself quite a lot better if her art had anything to say about her.

— What is it? Eight? Seven years? - she asked — You're looking good, Charlie!

I blushed under her gaze and she smiled wider. 

— You're not looking so bad yourself, Gail. - I said in a more polite tone. 

I looked over her shoulder and watched as my students looked at us with stupid smiles in all of their faces. Shitheads. 

I removed myself from Gail's hug and cleared my throat, she also looked behind herself and smiled sheepishly. 

— Alright, yes... the tour! But you totally owe me a coffee, Charlie! I gotta know what you've been up to! - she said, before approaching the kids and starting the tour. 

Gail's love for her art was transparent in her voice, in her gestures and and in her whole body language. She filled the children with beautiful stories about her inspirations. I could only follow behind, still a bit dazed at how much that woman had changed. 

Less than an hour later, Jeremy called me freaking out, saying the other students were hungry and starting to piss him off and I had to go meet with them as soon as possible. The tour was ending and I leaned against a wall as the kids talked between themselves about the impressions they had on the whole thing. Gail took a look at me and approached me again.

— And that coffee? - she asked with a smile. 

— I can't today. - I said apologetically. 

— Give me your phone number. I can text you some other time. 

I agreed to that. We exchanged phone numbers and she texted me a silly kissy face followed by a rainbow. 

— You're hilarious. - I scoffed, which only made her laugh. 

All the way back to the school, I was left a bit baffled at how much Gail had changed. It made me think back to Sadie and all our other so called friends. I never kept in touch with them, so maybe it wouldn't be so bad to talk with Gail again. She seemed more human. Then again, 6 years had passed, if I had changed, of course she had too. It was too dumb of me expect a 26 year old woman to be the same dumb teenage I had met once. 

When I got home from work, I texted her back first thing. 

_"Still up for that coffee?_

_"You bet."_ was her answer, followed by a _"Thought I'd have to spam you a bit."_

_"Oh! You're still annoying. Good. At least that didn't change."_

_"Make it to the coffee shop and I'll show you what else changed"_

_"Annoying"_

_"Shit eater"_

I sent her a few eye rolls and went back to do my stuff. Rocco arrived a few hours later and read the texts with a dumb little crest between his eyes. He was always confused that one, even more than me. 

— So is this the girl you dated back in high school? - he asked, still thumbing through my phone like an illiterate son of a bitch. 

— No, dude. Sadie was my girlfriend. This is Gail, the cheerleader, one of our friends. - I explained as if I was talking to a toddler — I told you about her before.

— Flirting with you like that?

That shocked me. 

— She’s not flirting, Rocco. C'mon. She's straight.

— Ok. I'm not Kyla, my gaydar is shit terrible, but this girl... she's not straight, Charlie. And if she is... well, she must be a Libra or something, cause damn.

— She ain't flirting. Quit being a damn jack off, Rocco.

— Alright. I take it back then. But if you text me after this "coffee" y'all be going to and you’re gay panicking like a dick, I'll tell my girlfriend to beat your ass.

— She'll most likely just beat yours _Mr. Yes Ma'am, Please._

— Fuck you.

— I don't swing that way, dude.

So I had the last word at that moment, but it didn't mean I wasn't left thinking about that shithead's words. The Gail I knew was a boy's girl. Dating the quarterback, enjoying carrying his jacket in her shoulders, a bit prejudiced if not a little ignorant like most white upper class teenagers in the early 00's. There wasn't one single good explanation for her to suddenly show up 6 years later like "Guess what, dude? I'm gay!". Rocco was tripping and trying to trip me with him, that goofy loser. 

I went to meet with Gail with an open mind and no expectations. Honestly, all I wanted was also to know what she had been up to, how she went from lawyer's daughter following into daddy's footsteps to a very good recognized artist. 

The internet was kinda helpful. Her work had just recently started to appear frequently in groups and solo exhibitions at galleries in California, New York City and New England. Fuchsia was her second solo exhibition, but she had appeared in another 10 group ones. She was young and very new, but her name was starting to hold some weight for the new era in her representation. Very little about her personal life was addressed. Just family names and that she lived in Manhattan with two dogs, named Ruffian and Caesar. I was fucking impressed. Ok, so Gail had money and influence, but art wasn't one of those things were only having a name would do. She had talent. Her Wikipedia article was small but also mentioned that she had an itch for painting since she was a child. It made me wonder what else I never caught about Abigail back in the day. 

So to the coffee I went. 

She was waiting in a two chair table, notebook open, glasses hanging from her nose, totally immersed in whatever she was reading. She had a grey and blue plaid shirt, light blue jeans and sneakers on. I had never see Gail wear something like that. Not even when we were teens. She looked... quiet beautiful actually. 

— Mind if I join you? - I asked, finally fishing her out of her thoughts. 

She raised her head and smiled at me, her pretty grey eyes squinting in an almost adorable manner. I slapped those thoughts away. What the fuck.

— Not at all. - She gestured for me to sit down. — What do you want? - she asked pushing the menu towards me. 

— I could really use a flat white, right now. - I admitted — Couldn't sleep for shit last night.

— Ouch! - she winced, still smiling a little — What happened? Everything's alright?

— Yeah.. just, you know. Work. Planning exams for teenagers who couldn't give less of a shit about history. All that jazz. - I sighed, unable to mask how frustrating it was. 

— You... a teacher, Charlie, seriously... that caught me totally off guard. You weren't good with teens not even when you were one yourself. - she laughed, but I could sense that there was no malice in her words, so I allowed myself to join in her joke. 

— I mean, it's what it is at the moment. But it was never my plan and I don't wanna keep doing it for the long run. Wanna be a restorer if we being true. Work for the Metropolitan. Do some meaningful shit for once, I'm not fit to handle teenagers. - I kept babbling until I realized I was way too caught up in my own damn thoughts. 

Looked back at Gail and she was looking at me. A little smile playing in her lips. 

— A restorer?

— Yeah... - I admitted, shyly. — Kinda was the reason why I chose this in the first place. I'm not an educator, Gail. C'mon.

— You're such a weirdo, Charlie. - and that made us both laugh. 

The conversation ran its course like that. We talked about a hundred different things in over two hours. We drank different types of coffees, ate sweets and rolled back the tape back to every subject that we needed to approach. Sadie was in Portugal, she was working for a non governmental project that helped women in extreme poverty and stuff like that. With her brains, it wasn't that surprising for me. Celine had graduated in political science and was very interested in following into her dad's - Senator Charles Martin - footsteps. I thought she was crazy, but hey! Gail said she didn't talk to Brian ever since graduation.They broke up weeks prior and never talked again. She said she was hoping he was doing well, that he had matured a bit more. 

— Like you did. - I complimented. 

— You think I matured a lot? - she questioned, looking both pleased and surprised. 

— I mean... you don't look a lot like your 16 year old self.

— Neither do you, Charlie. - she said in a somewhat lower voice — You might not even realize, which only makes it better, but... you changed a lot in the last decade.

— How come?

— You look like... you. The real you. - she said, but her words came out a bit confused, like she couldn't quite put her mind on what she was trying to say. 

— College might have had a hand in that. - I laughed, trying to make things less awkward. 

— I guess... - she added with a grin — Many girls in college?

— Only one. - I said thinking about Hanna, but fixing it right after — I mean... at first only one. Two or three if we actually count. 

— Ooh Charlie Chucks! Two? Damn! Never pegged you as the wild type.- the silly irony was dripping from her lips and sarcastic expression. 

— Hey! It's not my fault if I--

— I'm not judging, Charlie. Seriously. I'm just joking with you. - Gail said, quickly, placing a hand over mine, which warmed up the skin there and also the place right inside my chest, God knows why or what was the connection. 

We talked about her art and why she never mentioned being into it before. She said it was because it wasn't exactly the coolest thing ever if the head cheerleader turned out to be a Museum nerd. For what she was aiming to be at the time, it would be peak loser behavior. But she loved it, she loved it because her mother also loved it before her. It was their thing. Gail's art, much like her, had become comfortable, easy on the eye and just overall something to behold. 

Before saying goodbye we added each other Facebook and agreed to meet again sometime soon. I was glad that meeting with Gail had been so positive and so enlightening. It was only after putting on my jacket that I realized that we talked about everything and anything, but never broached over the subject of Gail's personal life. Mine had been a bit exposed, but hers was still locked tight. _Unfair_. I thought with my always disruptive fucking mind. 

— Hey, you never said anything about your love life! Discriminatory! - I said, turning back to her — No new guys on the Hail the Gail bandwagon?"

As she was also putting on her coat, she stopped mid move and stared at me, actually surprised for the very first time that day. She let the coat practically drop on her shoulders. 

— Guys? - she asked, sounding a bit confused. 

— Yeah... boyfriends? Dates? Hookups?

She laughed at that. 

— I haven't dated a man for what now... five, six years? Yeah, something like that.- she explained, patiently. 

— So what... you went celibate? - I wondered out loud, causing me to become greatly embarrassed and Gail to actually laugh in front of my lack of manners. 

— Not really. I have been in a drought of guys for six years, yeah, sure... but my last girlfriend has been what... yes, 9 months. Still a lot of time, but better than six years, you gotta agree with me?

My mouth opened with a sound, the second I managed to put all her words together. Girlfriends? Gail? Oh my God... Fucking Rocco! 

— You're... gay? - I asked, too shell shocked to watch my indiscretions. 

— I wouldn't go that far. I'm still well ok attracted to guys sometimes, I just know better than to date them. Men are irritating. I'm a perfect 3 in the Kinsey Scale. - she explained. 

I felt like my head was about to fall of my neck. 

What the fuck? Hail the Gail was bisexual? The same woman who rubbed in everyone's faces how popular she was with boys? The one who introduced Sadie and I to each other because and let me quote _"You two are the only gays I know and like, so... y'all should click or whatever."_ This was a joke. It had to be a joke. 

— Fucked up your little brain, didn't I?

Gail was literally doubling down. Laughing like crazy while trying to still keep eye contact with. 

— C'mon. Let's take a walk. I feel like this deserves a conversation on its own.

And on the second part of our day together Gail explained everything else to me. She said that she always knew that she liked girls just as much as she liked boys, maybe even more, but I had to understand that in the society we lived in back in the day, surrounded by the people we were surrounded, it was hard to see being attracted to girls as anything more than just embarrassing. Charlie had been an wild exception. Gail said college had been like a mother to her, it was there where she met her first girlfriend, Lena and then dated around for the whole progress of her course. She had the chance to be herself and wouldn't waste that chance again for nothing in the world. 

— I totally had a crush on you back in the day. - she said out of nowhere. 

— Don't fucking joke. - I scolded her, feeling my heart almost punch its way out of my chest. 

— Not joking. - she raised her hands in surrender — You were so shy and difficult and kinda weird, but there's only so much someone can fight against these pretty hazel eyes, Charlie Chucks. - she confessed, eyes glued on the horizon, where some kids were playing. 

I had never seen Gail like that. I would lie if I said I did. She was too much for me back in the day, so you can see how that notion messed up with my brain. And my brain for a moment stopped to consider... what if it had been Gail and not Sadie?

— Fuck... - I whispered under my breath, making her laugh. 

I tried to gather my thoughts as fast as possible, I wasn't ready yet to leave that conversation. It felt like watching my teenager hood through a whole new point of view, so I said the first thing that came into my mind. 

— Are they less corrupting nowadays?

— What is? - she wondered. 

— My eyes. Did they lost their effect on you?

Gail looked at me with an expression I couldn't quiet read. She was never one of the easy ones. She was complicated to read. Held her emotions in her back pocket like a petty thief. 

— They are still hazel. - was her answer. I was lost. 

The conversation died down a bit after that. We were walking into nighttime and I still had some things to edit on the exams and she had to go back to work as well. We agreed to meet again some other time. 

As soon as we said goodbye, I called Rocco, my heart pounding inside my chest. 

— You're such a goddamn useless lesbian. - was the first thing he said as soon as he picked it up. 

Rocco laughed in my face at the apartment and I hit him with an empty pot. He got a lump on his forehead and I had to take him to the ER to get checked for concussions. Still I insisted he deserved it and to watch out before laughing at me again. Dickwad. 

Gail and I kept seeing each other at least once or twice a week for three months. We'd talk and have a coffee, sometimes we'd have lunch or dinner or whatever meal was fit at the time. We would talk about her new projects and about my dreams. She would share my worries about being stuck in that goddamn school. Once she even said:

— I know someone who knows someone at the Metropolitan... I can make a call and land you an interview, you just have to want it.

I said no. It bothered me that our newfound friendship would ever be based on anything other than just cheer fondness towards each other. She laughed at my dramatics, but agreed anyways. 

When I look at it today, I realize that Gail and I approached each other in such an organic way that the only option of explanation, was really fate. Fucking fate. 

On the 4th of July we went back home to spend time with our families and Gail found a way to stop by at my house and hug my parents - who still very much adored her - and eat some of my mom's amazing cooked potatoes. We drank some beer and talked in the backyard, while staring at the stars. 

The day Gail and I saw each other again was the day my life changed. That day in the backyard was the day I realized it had changed. 

— I'm in a very complicated prediction, Charlie... - she mumbled out of nowhere, still looking up at the sky who had long ago become dark blue. 

— What is it?

She then turned her eyes at me, face neutral and then hugged her knees against her chest.

— There is this girl and... I think I might be just a little bit in love with her."

It was shit to admit that I had gotten a bit upset at that confession. I had no idea that Gail was seeing someone. Not to mention enough to fall in love. It took me a few seconds to realize it was jealousy and a few more to swallow that shit down since I had no fucking right to be jealous of Gail about anything. 

— Oh. - was all I could come up with. 

— We met up again just recently. - she kept going — And she still looks just as beautiful as I remember. Smile just as pretty. Eyes just as charming. She makes my heart go feral with just one dumb little smile" she twisted her lips, thinking about it. 

— You should tell her then... - I said, trying my best not to sound choked up at whatever feeling was cooking up in the pit of my stomach at the moment. 

— The thing is... - she started, looking at me again — I've been trying for the last few months to tell her. I give signs. I do my best... but I don't think she's interested, either that or she's as dumb as a sack of bricks.

I think I might have looked just as confused as I felt, because I watched as Gail rolled her eyes and scooted a bit closer to me, practically gluing her disturbingly beautiful grey eyes into my hazel ones. 

— I'm fucking into you, Charlotte Grigsby. Think you up for it?

Yes. Just like that. No. I'm not making it up. Gail said sometime later that if she had waited one second more for me to pick up her damn message, she would have jumped off the fucking rooftop. Thank God, she didn't. 

As you can imagine, I had no answer for that situation. I could only look at her as I tried to access my own feelings about the whole thing. 

I tried to think about a future with a woman. I try to think about who I imagined there with me. Rocco, of course. Kyla and her two boys. My parents. My siblings. But who was the woman? And why I was so upset at the fact I couldn't place Gail into that picture without picturing her as the woman in the future herself. Fuck. 

It wouldn't be too far fetched to admit that I had been falling in love with Gail from the day that we met. That my feelings had taken the longest road to reach where they wanted to reach. 

— Goddamnit... - I finally whispered, a good few minutes later. 

Gail hadn't moved but she was staring up at the sky again.

— I'm into you too, Abigail. Quiet a damn lot, actually.

She turned her head so fast I was scared it would case an whiplash. 

— Are you for real?

— Yeah.

She took a deep breath and whispered a "good" under her breath, before leaning closer to me and covering my lips with hers. 

I couldn't tell of what Gail tasted like. Cause the touch of her mouth against mine, had exploded my senses like a tsunami. A tsunami that tasted a lot like what happiness was supposed to taste like. I felt the hair in my arms standing up. I felt my body getting light as her hands rested behind my head and her scent filled in my senses, making me unable to grasp anything else anymore. 

That was how my mom caught us and broke us apart with her kitchen cloth, trying to keep her laughter to herself as she playfully scolded us for being "Pervs and silly liars!". She went in to tell my dad and he came out just as playfully annoyed as she was. It was the first time that the fact that Gail had wooed my parents so well back in the day paid well for both of us. 

My parents already thought we were together and we hadn't had not even a single second to actually talk about it. 

At the end of the day, we didn't need to. 

Gail and I clicked together well. Like polar opposite magnets simply clinging into each other when brought too close. 

But there were other things at stake, and I would be damned if I would let years go by again until I was completely honest with her. Not a chance in fucking hell. Never anymore. And certainly not with Abigail. 

Two days later, in my living room, I sat her down and served us both generous glasses of wine. We would need it. 

Of course I was scared. Something in my chest said that Gail was the one for me, that fate had brought us back together for a reason. If I had to lose her because my asexuality got in the way again, I'd be furious with it and with myself. I no longer resented this part of me, but I wouldn't remain its biggest fan if it made me lose Gail. Not like I had lost Sadie and Hanna in the past. 

It took me one hour, fifteen minutes and almost a whole bottle of wine to actually gather the courage to be honest with Gail. 

— Before we go anywhere from here, I have something kinda important to say. - that's how I started. 

Gail was only looking at me, like she always did, like whatever I had to say was of fundamental importance not only for us but also for the rest of world. 

— I have this thing... This other sexual orientation thing... I... I messed up a few times because of it... I... I don't wanna mess up again. — I felt her hand touch my face for a second. 

— Just say it. You can trust me, Charlie.

— I'm homoromantic asexual. - I coughed out, trembling, using the most scientific way possible to explain. 

Her face didn't change. 

— I... I can be in a relationship. I can... be in love and I love being in love, I just... I don't think I'll ever be able to fully enjoy sex. To ever have sex without it seeming like a profound torture to me.

Gail blinked and took another sip of her wine. It made me get more anxious. 

— I can... I can do it sometimes, though. Not... I don't like to receive anything, if that's ok. But I can totally... 

Yes. There I was again, offending all my personal alarms because I couldn't stand the idea of being rejected or seen as ridiculous and pathetic. 

— I'll ask you to kindly shut the fuck up for five seconds and completely ignore whatever was that you just said in the last ten. - Gail finally interrupted me, her voice stone cold. Her face a bit... irritated. For the very first time since we met again. 

I shut myself up. I watched her as she dove back into her thoughts. 

— I'm bisexual." she said suddenly — Guess one could say bisexual biromantic? - she tried, tasting the words in her mouth, like something new. 

— Ok...

— That's one thing about me. I'm also a painter, an artist, a daughter, a friend, a dog's mother. I'm also a chocolate addicted. I often have lukewarm thoughts. I'm a neutral person. I'm all of that and I'm also bisexual biromantic. It doesn't change or diminishes anything about me. You wouldn't like me less because I dated men at some point, would you? - she asked and I shook my head no. Of course not. 

— Then it goes both ways, Charlie. I don't care if you're asexual. Sex is good, honestly. It's pretty good. But it's not everything. Not by a mile. You can't base a relationship solely on sex. You gotta base around the people in it. I'm bisexual. You're asexual. Big fucking woop! Now we have two different people to walk around. I don't love you any less for this. If anything, at every day that goes by, I only love you more.

She touched my chin and pulled me in, kissing me slowly and then placing a kiss in my forehead. 

— Thanks for being honest with me. 

That was the first time in my life that being honest had paid off. The first time in my life I had been honest for the right reasons. 

I was in love with Abigail Hurst and I would do everything in my power to make it work. 

— Thanks for being perfect for me. - I said. 

— Nobody is perfect, loser. - she smiled — There's always more work to be done. But I'd dare to say, we've very close.

She kissed me one more time. I smiled against her lips. 

That was almost 5 years ago. I wish I could say that every single one of mine and Gail's disagreements ended up with pretty words and kisses. They didn't. We had some pretty nasty fights along the way, most of them caused by me and my stupid insecurity. Not towards Gail, but towards myself. 

I was always afraid Gail would get tired of that. That eventually she would just fuck off and never look back. Gail was the one who had to bring me back to the safety of her arms every time I wandered away too much. 

On our first year officially together, we traveled to Paris and she showed me everything I had only seen in books and movies. She told me she loved me in the Eiffel Tower.

Sex never became a problem, but we were very open about a few important things. Gail was still a sexual being and masturbation was her go to solution for when she needed some relief which was surprisingly often on the very beginning. I liked kissing. A lot. But most of our make out sessions would leave her in a... pretty fired up state. I didn't mind kissing her while she putted herself back in place. For some reason, it was a bit rejoicing for me. Slowly I was led to realize that by being with me there was very little Gail would have to lose. 

She once told me that if jacking off in front of me was what she would have to do to keep me at peace with myself, she would have done it way before. A whole clown. 

On our second anniversary we went to the Netherlands and Gail proposed to me in a beautiful garden, her eyes giving away all the love she had in her. As I said yes and pulled her up to a kiss in front of a whole mob of cheery Europeans. 

In our engagement party she introduced me to a friend of a friend, someone she had mentioned before. Someone who worked at the Metropolitan Museum. Jack was a cool guy and we hit it off. He told me to drop off some time for an interview. Three months later I was working at the Metropolitan Museum of New York backing up an amazing team of professionals. Like I always dreamed. 

We got married less than 7 months after. We got married at home, in New York. We married in a garden, with all of our friends around us. Old and new. Kyla, Josh and Simon were already with their new family addition, Josh and Kyla's new girlfriend, Katie and her 2 year old son, Patrick. Rocco was refusing to get married because he was a difficult little shit, but he was there with his girlfriend as well. 

It was the most beautiful day of my life. Because I always doubted it would ever come. For a long time I believed myself undeserving of an ordinary relationship. Of someone who loved me and understood me. For a long time I was a coward and a bastard. I hurt people because I was afraid of getting myself hurt. I was unfair and problematic. I had a long walk in self discover to end up where I end up. Saying 'yes' to Abigail Hurst in front of 100 people and an Anglican priest. Becoming then Charlotte Grigsby-Hurst. 

We're already in the future. The future we planned and always dreamed of. Gail is currently working on her fourth solo exhibition. I'm more in love with my work every day that goes by. We have a nice house. Amazing friends. Adorable dogs. And we even have that pretty picket fence I always dreamed about. 

There was only one thing missing. And as I sat on my couch, Gail's hand inside mine, Rocco sitting on the other side of the room, anxiously looking through the window, while my parents tried to remain calm as well, the one thing that was missing finally knocked on the door. 

Mrs. Lopez - the social worker - held our bundle of joy in her arms. Adam was 3 but he was still struggling a bit with talking and walking. We were warned that we'd have to be patient with him. But he was perfect for us. 

As we've opened the door, his brown eyes found Gail and I in a flash. He tried to struggle out of Mrs. Lopez's arms and we rushed towards him, Gail hugging him tight and I hugging both of them. 

That was our kid now. That was the start of our very own family. Of a whole new family. And every day I thank God for allowing me to learn from my mistakes. And every day I thank fate for guiding me back all the way to the start, so I could reach my happy ending. 

So I could reach the love that would make everything worth it in the end. 


End file.
